Chapter Nine
When the world has become a pencil, drawing a stunning success on the tripod of the originator, I wait for it to fade to black and arise anew. Right now, I am walking in the dark, I am wearing a long black dress and a big hood. I am hoping that I will not feel cold and I believe that I will get exactly what I want.
It is as if the nightfall is the curtain closing, and the dawn is its opening each day, the birds singing on cue with their beautiful serenade. While others sleep through the dying of the light, my task is to remain awake as I walk down the narrow path and witness what happens in the river, to see how the pencil sketch becomes the greatest of high definition movies.
I could come up with one, you know.
As I disappear further into the forest, blackness becomes even intense, I calmly watch myself be erased, eyes open and seeing nothing at all, the only evidence of my being is the steady thump of my heart and the cool air in my lungs.
